While My Guitar Gently
by MaraSil
Summary: Maria visits her beloved hills. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**While My Guitar Gently…**

They had been beckoning for so long. She had been to the hills with the children several times, but not since she had left the Abbey had she come alone. Despite carrying the extra weight of her guitar, Maria increased her pace, feeling impatient to visit her favorite spots: the trees that she sometimes thought of as her own private slalom course, and other times imagined being a fragrant canopy under which she could rest; the brook that bubbled and chuckled and never failed to cheer her; the wide open spaces that looked out onto the closest things she could imagine to permanence on this good Earth – the sky and the mountains.

She grinned broadly and, setting down her guitar, spread her arms out wide and twirled until she was too dizzy to stand. Laughing at herself, she sat on the grass and waited for the world to come back into focus. When her head had stopped spinning, she looked all around her and tried to absorb the unspoiled beauty of the hills. Closing her eyes and lifting her head up to let the warmth of the sun, the warmth of _the Son_, penetrate, she prayed.

She felt so thankful. In just one day, yesterday, she had nearly lost everything, and yet she had somehow regained it all, multiplied. She had argued with the Captain, had said things to him without thinking through the consequences. She had been unable to hold herself back; the words had exploded out of her. It had been because of the children; someone had needed to speak for the children.

When he had dismissed her, she had been momentarily stunned; all of the fight had gone out of her. She could already see herself saying goodbye to the children and could not bear the thought. When he had walked away from her, distracted and lured by the sound of the children singing, she had been left to walk back to the house alone. It had been so difficult to take those steps. She had already begun to feel the loneliness; she had already started to miss the children.

But there was no need to feel despondent anymore, was there? He had changed his mind. He had even apologized to her and asked her to stay. The children's singing had touched something in him, and even if she didn't quite understand how or why, she was grateful.

This morning he had surprised her by unexpectedly giving her the afternoon off, telling her that he would be spending it with his children. She had almost refused at first, thinking she might be needed, but had reconsidered when she imagined how happy the children would feel to spend time with their father. She suspected it would be good for the Captain as well.

And so here she was, alone on her mountain once again. Alone, but not alone. Never alone.

She opened the case beside her and lifted the guitar out gently. Holding it in her lap, she looked at it more closely than she had in a long time. Although it was in good condition, it was an old guitar. She didn't know how old, or how many people had owned it before her, but it had a few nicks and scratches. Most of the original shine on the body of the guitar had been dulled long ago. The frets were worn down, indentations clearly visible from the many fingers – her own included – that had pressed down on them throughout an untold number of years. The strings were begging to be replaced, but it was enough that they still played for her.

She was not a masterful musician, nor did she aspire to be one. She played simply, modestly. It was all she needed; it was enough to accompany her as she sang.

She had not made much use of the guitar once she had entered the Abbey. The instrument of choice there was the organ, and there were persons far more talented than she who provided the celestial music that helped to raise the nuns' voices to heaven. Her guitar had lain in a closet, untouched, for almost the entire time she had been in the Abbey.

When the Reverend Mother had met her at the Abbey gate to bid her farewell, Maria had been surprised and delighted as the Abbess had handed her the guitar. Maria had been beyond grateful for the gift, and even more so for the Abbess's thoughtfulness. Maria had left the Abbey feeling not quite so alone; she had welcomed and embraced her longtime companion.

Feeling content with the memory of that moment, Maria strummed a chord; D major. She had always thought of D major as a particularly happy sounding chord. Without having anything in mind, she continued strumming, switching from one chord to another – D major, A major, and back to D major. She smiled as she heard in her head the opening notes to the first song she had taught the children and hummed it as she began the familiar picking pattern on the guitar. That song had been the start of some of the happiest times she had spent with the children.

She paused in her strumming as she thought of the children. Although they sometimes tried her patience, they always ended in delighting her. The older children already looked to her for guidance as they continued to mature. They often surprised her with their questions and comments, constantly revealing a strong intellect and a desire to learn. The younger children made her happy in the simplest of ways. Each time she felt a small hand sliding into hers, each time one of them smiled up at her with a look of complete trust, she could barely contain the love she felt growing for them. For all of them.

She thought of the Baroness, the woman who was destined to be their new mother. Although it was unreasonable, she felt a pang of jealousy at the thought. The children were not hers and they never would be. It was a simple fact. She would just have to continue doing her best to prepare them for their new mother. Their rightful mother.

She picked at the guitar again, hands moving almost automatically as she thought of the children and the Baroness, of how clear it was that they needed much more time to develop a sense of warmth, a sense of connection between each other. Even though the Baroness and the children had only just met, she felt instinctively that there was something lacking that should be there. She decided that she must help them as much as she could.

She thought of the Captain, of how he and the children seemed to be rediscovering their connection. She remembered how he had reached out so hesitantly to the children when they had completed their song, of how they had responded by rushing into his arms, of how she had _almost_ felt a part of that connection.

She began humming absentmindedly again but stopped when she heard the sound of her own voice accompanying the chords that she was playing. It was an old song she had not thought of for many years. It was a song that had always made her weep as a child; the melody was haunting, filled with longing and loss and loneliness.

_I go to the hills when my heart is lonely…_

She wiped the corner of her eye, not having been aware of the tears gathering there. Why should she feel lonely or sad? She was always surrounded by people, by the children. She was helping to bring a family together. She was being of service; she was on God's errand. Her days were filled with joy, not sadness.

_I go to the hills when my heart is lonely…_

She resumed playing the melancholic song of her childhood and tried to let the music take the loneliness away from her. She tried to pour it out of herself, to let it flow out of her fingers and into the guitar. She tried to let the guitar weep for her.

When the song ended, she packed up her guitar and returned it to its case. She packed up the feelings that had momentarily overwhelmed her and put them away as well. She stood and, determined to leave behind on these hills what she could not, should not, take with her, she went back down the mountain and returned to the villa.


	2. Chapter 2

**While My Guitar Gently… Part 2**

A/N: I'm really **not** turning this into a longer story. I'm just having a very difficult time finishing On The Veranda and needed a distraction.

* * * * *

_You must leave it behind._

Maria paused at the edge of the grounds of the villa and took a deep breath. With her quick stride, it would not take her long to reach the house. Once she took that first step onto the grounds, she would be fine. Once she took that first step… why was she reluctant to take that step?

She had no way to explain to herself what she had felt on the mountain, or why she had felt it. It made no sense to her. But she told herself that it would pass; it was passing already. She just needed to leave the last traces of it behind. There was too much ahead of her to keep holding on to something she didn't even understand. There were the children to look after.

She took another deep breath, trying to fill the curious vacuum that still wasn't quite gone, and shook herself. The guitar rattled in it case; the muffled, dissonant sound it made reminded her that she was still carrying the case. Her eyes widened in surprise. She knew she was easily distracted, but how could she have forgotten so completely that she held it? How could she have ignored the feel and weight of it in her hand?

_Take hold of yourself, Maria. Whatever it is, leave it behind. Don't let it damage anything. Think of the children._

The children.

Maria walked onto the grounds with a single-minded purpose. The children.

* * * * *

She slowed as she neared the house, a smile forming easily as she heard the sound of laughter, of the children talking over each other excitedly. She could not make out their words, but they sounded cheerful. They must be enjoying the time spent with their father.

She approached quickly, eager to see the children and the Captain. When they came into view, she listened more carefully, and the smile on her face grew. They were sitting outside the gazebo and appeared to be playing some sort of guessing game. The Captain had apparently given an incorrect response, something so ridiculously incorrect that the children were openly laughing at it. The expression on his face, a look of mock disbelief that did not hide the amusement in his eyes, made her laugh as well.

"Fraulein Maria! You're back!"

"Can you play with us now?"

"We went to town today!"

"We've been playing a game with Father!"

"I want to show you the flowers I picked on the way home!"

"Did you miss us too?"

"Father, look, Fraulein Maria is back!"

As the children ran to welcome her, Maria wondered how she could have been feeling anything but joy. She walked back with them to the benches and set down the guitar.

"Really, children, I've only been gone a few hours. I hope you've all had a perfectly marvelous day. And yes, I missed you too." She had missed them. That must be why she had felt as she had. It was clear to her now.

"Yes, it has been a marvelous day." She had not expected the response to come from the Captain. He was on his feet, smiling, watching her and the children. He looked happy, and it was so infectious that she smiled back at him without giving it a second thought.

"But as you can see, now that they've seen their beloved governess, there's no bringing them back to their grumpy old father," he continued, nodding toward the children, amusement still evident in his eyes.

"You're not grumpy, Father. Not anymore. Although you are a bit old, I suppose."

Maria held her breath, fearful of how the Captain would respond to Gretl's spontaneous reply. But the Captain laughed heartily, scooping Gretl up in his arms and squeezing her until she squealed in delight.

Maria could hardly believe what she was seeing. She must have been mistaken about the initial impression he had made on her, that of a man, a good man, but one so contained that he had needed a mirror held to his face to see himself clearly. He couldn't have changed so much so quickly, could he? Certainly not merely because of the way she had confronted him. He must always have had all of this inside of him.

He looked in her direction suddenly, and she felt caught, confused. These were curious, almost inappropriate thoughts, thoughts she was grateful not to have blurted out for once. Even though she had not, it seemed to her that he had heard them; it seemed as if had read them from her mind. As if he was connected to her.

Everything seemed to be moving so slowly. The world around her slowed to a crawl. Even the sounds around her slowed until it all fell away, until there was only one thing in front of her. One person. One connection.

Kurt pulled hard on her skirt.

"Fraulein Maria? I asked if you would play and sing for us. I asked you twice. Didn't you hear me?"

She looked down at him dazedly, sound rushing back to her ears, air refilling her empty lungs. She hadn't heard him. She hadn't heard anything or anyone. She had been too busy looking at…

What was happening to her?

"Kurt, perhaps we should let Fraulein Maria enjoy the rest of her afternoon off. She can play for you tomorrow."

The Captain lowered Gretl to the ground. He was looking at her with concern. This was unacceptable. It didn't matter how inexplicably odd, how unlike herself she was feeling today; she was here for the children. She must not forget that, she must not lose herself in… whatever it was. She smiled down at Kurt.

"Of course I'll play for you. But why don't we all sing together?" She sat on the bench and took the guitar from its case.

The children sat near her quickly, waiting for her to decide on the song. She thought something cheerful might be wise, and she began to play.

"_Do – a deer, a female deer…"_

The children's voices and the memories of the time she had spent teaching them the song helped to bring her back to herself. By the end of the song, she felt almost normal again. She smiled at the children, relieved and grateful.

"Children, you have such lovely voices. It pleases me so to hear you sing." They were extraordinarily talented. Maria had not expected it when she had first begun to teach them, but it had made sharing music with them all the more enjoyable.

"It pleases me as well. Exceedingly so." The Captain had been listening quietly, seated across from them. The look of pride and contentment on his face was obvious, even to the children, and they beamed at him, laughing and talking over each other again. The Captain quieted them by raising his hand.

"But I'm afraid we won't have time for more. Dinner should be ready soon. Into the house now, time to wash up."

After only a bit of grumbling, the children obeyed their father and walked toward the house, still chattering among themselves. Maria stood and started to put the guitar back in its case when she saw another hand wrap itself around the neck of the guitar. She looked up, startled.

"May I?"

He stood next to her, both of them holding on to the guitar. She didn't know why, but she felt suddenly nervous, and she looked away, quickly letting go of the guitar.

"I didn't know you played, Captain."

He sat down, balancing the guitar on his thigh, curving his right arm around the body of the instrument. He picked out a few notes.

"I don't, really. It's been some time. Years."

He picked out a few more notes, repositioning his fingers. She stared at him, astounded at the fact that they should have this in common. It seemed that every day brought a new discovery of something else that they shared. She felt everything shifting yet again, and she watched him play, spellbound.

He played for only a short time. Before long he was rubbing the fingertips of his left hand with his thumb. He smiled wryly at himself.

"The calluses have worn down. I'd forgotten that it hurts."

Maria looked at the calluses on her own fingers, calluses that had begun to rebuild after she had started to play again. Yes, it had been painful at first. But not anymore.

She looked up and found him watching her, his expression inscrutable. He seemed mysterious, and… sad? She didn't know what made her think that; why should he be sad? He stood and held the guitar out to her. She took the instrument from him and wrapped her arms around it. The guitar was still warm where he had held it against his body. Another connection.

_You must leave it behind._

She looked away, steeling herself against the tears that threatened to form in her eyes. By sheer force of will, her eyes remained dry. She put the guitar away, closing the case, snapping the metal latches securely in place.

When she was certain she was in control of herself again, she looked up. To her relief, he was no longer staring at her. He was staring at the guitar case. He stared at it for so long, remaining silent, that she began to wonder if something was wrong.

"Was there something else you wished, Captain?"

He turned to look at her again, the same inscrutable expression still on his face.

"No."

He began moving toward the house but stopped after only a few steps, not looking back at her.

"Yes. Thank you." He did look at her then, before leaving. She watched him until he disappeared into the house.

She didn't know why he had thanked her.

She didn't know why the song in her heart had changed. But she knew that it had.


End file.
